


Regency Christmas

by Silvestria



Category: The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Backstory, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Regency, snowed in for Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6886690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvestria/pseuds/Silvestria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas time and Dorothy Freye is waiting for her fiancé to arrive. Her sister, Madeleine, is waiting for something else. When dashing Viscount Surrey turns up in a snow storm, she begins to think that Christmas in the country might not be so tedious after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regency Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> The first fanfic to be posted on LL. Very proud!

It was not in Miss Madeleine Freye’s nature to be competitive. On the whole her temper was placid and her nature complacent. If anybody in the family was inclined to be competitive, then it was her elder sister, Dorothy. Dot was always inclined to be the best at everything and to want the most and to believe herself entitled to it. Madeleine really could not see the point. Wanting something very badly did not make it any more likely that one would get it, she thought prosaically. One must be practical about these things. Moreover, Dorothy had become engaged at the end of the season to a most unassuming person. Marcus Greystone might be of very good family and have a house in town, but he did _not_ have a title and he did _not_ have a country estate and he did _not_ have an income of more than £3,000 a year. Not to mention that he was shamefully ugly and had horrific sideburns. Madeleine shuddered. She had no idea what her sister saw in him.  
  
Looking up from the novel that she was not reading, Madeleine fixed her penetrating gaze on her sister as she studied fashion patterns at the drawing room table. “Do you love Mr. Greystone so very much, Dot?”  
  
“Hmm?” said the elder Freye girl, idly admiring her ring. “Marcus? Yes, I do rather. Do you think blue with pink flower pattern or yellow with orange flowers for my night gown? Which would Marcus prefer?”  
  
“I wonder you ask me. An unmarried sister is hardly going to know what a gentleman wants his wife to wear on their wedding night. I should suspect he will not notice the colours at all,” she added wickedly.  
  
Dorothy blushed but then jutted her chin in the air. “I dare say you are right,” she answered with a laudable attempt at worldly sophistication. “I was talking to Maria Crane after church last week and she said she had to get a new nightgown after the wedding night.” She leaned towards her sister and continued in a feverish whisper, “Mr. Crane _ripped it right off her_! In the _heat of his passion_! Fancy that, Maddie!”  
  
Madeleine’s light blue eyes danced and she bit her lip to keep herself from laughing at the thought both of portly Mr. Crane carried away by passion and the sort of conversations her sister managed to have. “You know, I always did wonder what you and Maria had to talk about. I think I would have preferred ignorance! Really, Dot, Mama would be scandalized to hear you speak thus.”  
  
“That,” said Dorothy, “is why I don’t include her in my conversations with Maria!”  
  
She returned to her pamphlet for a moment before turning back and saying anxiously, “You won’t tell her, will you, Maddie?”  
  
Madeleine smiled her rather close, enigmatic smile and answered calmly, “Of course not. Why on earth should I?”  
  
Madeleine believed in keeping silent unless there was very good reason to speak out. Dorothy would know all about ripped nightgowns before the year was out and Madeleine had no intention of spoiling her pleasure. She always had been a gossip. Besides, you learned so much more from being silent and listening when nobody thought you were paying attention. And Madeleine liked to know things.  
  
She stood up and abandoned her novel on the chaise longue.  
  
“Where are you going?” asked her sister.  
  
“Upstairs, to find my embroidery.”  
  
“What about your book?” complained Dorothy. “This is the third second volume you’ve left lying about this week. Why don’t you ever finish them?”  
  
Madeleine hesitated in the doorway and shrugged. “I get bored. The plots are all the same.”  
  
Then she left the room, closing the door softly behind her and leaving her sister to all the joys of choosing a new wardrobe. Once upstairs in her bedroom, she ignored the two pieces of half finished embroidery that lay on her bed and went to the window. There was a light frost on the lawn at the front of the house and the window panes were covered with condensation. A warm and friendly fire roared in her grate while outside a weak sun struggled to make itself seen.  
  
Madeleine sighed and blew on the window pane to watch it cloud over even more. She really was not competitive, but there was something about seeing her sister on the point of matrimony that made her wish to be equally settled. It had taken Dorothy three seasons to snag Mr. Greystone. A country baronet’s daughter with only a moderate fortune, who was inclined towards plumpness was never going to be the greatest catch of the season. Madeleine had only had one season so far, but she had always hoped to have been married by the end of it. She knew she was prettier than her sister. She was taller for one, and slimmer, and her hair was blonder and her eyes more expressive. Not that Dorothy was not very nice looking, but she was hardly going to stand out in a crowd of beautiful and wealthy girls.  
  
Madeleine had really thought she might do better. Still, the season had ended six months ago and she had only received one offer; and that suitor had not been sufficiently wealthy or good-looking for her to overlook the fact that he was forty if he was a day and dull as ditchwater. Moreover, he was not Lord Surrey.  
  
Madeleine did not think that she was in love with the Viscount of course. Love was not for quiet and sensible country girls like herself. She fully intended to marry for money and status as was the done thing, but was it really too much to ask that her wealthy and titled hypothetical suitor was pleasant to look at and young and agreeable as well? Lord Surrey answered all her requirements and moreover one day he would be more than a Viscount: he would be an Earl. Earl of Rotherham and of a vast estate in Yorkshire. Madeleine had never been so far north, but she liked the sound of it on her tongue: Madeleine, Countess of Rotherham. My Lady. The Earl and Countess of Rotherham. Richard and Madeleine. How well it sounded!  
  
If she married the Viscount, then she would be far above Dorothy in status and she would have a husband to be proud of. (Not that there was really anything wrong with Mr. Greystone…) The Viscount was undeniably handsome, with close cropped dark hair and, what interested Madeleine most, a look of lively satire in his dark eyes that seemed to match her own in a way that she could hardly describe. She sometimes felt that they understood each other, the Viscount and her. They were both quiet, undemonstrative people but she for one often watched others with hidden amusement and she suspected that Lord Surrey did as well, beneath his grave exterior. Indeed, ignoring his good looks, most young ladies found his Lordship’s character somewhat lacking. He was serious and interested in such dull topics as politics and sitting in the House and looking after his estates. He read the Times daily in his club, rarely drank and never gambled and had very little interest in racing horses. How dull! exclaimed the other debutantes. If this is what he is like at twenty-four, imagine him at fifty-four!  
  
Madeleine, on the other hand, watched him with surreptitious dedication and liked what she saw. She saw a man dedicated to what he believed important. She herself found politics dull stuff, but she thought it was admirable for a man to have such an interest. A lord who was so careful about himself and his household would surely make a good and careful husband and father to their children. And Madeleine was almost positive he was not half as stuffy as he made himself appear. After all, if she had to pretend to be interested in dull people in society and probably appeared very dull herself, it only stood to reason that an intelligent man like Lord Surrey would have to do the same.  
  
Perhaps she was running away with herself. It was not as if he had made her an offer all season or even paid her any particular attention. Certainly nothing to make Dorothy raise her eyebrows at her and Dorothy was very good at finding things to raise her eyebrows about. He had danced with her at every ball they had both attended and he had called on Mama several times and talked to her and did seem to enjoy her company, but that did not mean he wanted to marry her. Madeleine was not very good at flirting either. Her mother and Dorothy said she did not exert herself or put herself forward enough, but Madeleine felt instinctively that she would only look foolish if she tried to be more outgoing. Well, there was always next season in which to catch the Viscount. He would have no chance of finding some other girl to propose to before April, unless he fancied a country bride. Nobody ever got engaged out of the season. Nobody of significance, that was.  
  
In the meantime, Madeleine thought, wiping her hand across the glass and then drying it absent mindedly on her skirt, she would simply have to wait. Well, she did not mind much. She was perfectly content to remain at home. At least she had been before she had had a season. Now though… now, she felt dissatisfied and restless. Christmas just with her parents and grandfather and Mr. Greystone suddenly seemed a dull affair after London parties and summer house parties. There simply was nothing in these people, no matter how much she loved them, that could interest an eighteen year old. There was nothing to watch, to thing about, to plot over, nothing that they could say that they had not said a hundred times before. And nobody whose amused, dark eye she could meet over a crowded room…  
  
Madeleine shook herself and moved away from the window, picked up her embroidery and went quietly downstairs to join her sister.

* * *

Christmas Eve was a little warmer than the day before, but the sky was greyer with heavy snow filled clouds. Fires roared in all the rooms of Sir James Freye’s household and Lady Freye wandered from room to room, twitching back the curtains. “If it snows, then Papa will never want to leave and I would so much like him to meet Marcus!”  
  
“Never mind the Earl!” snapped Dorothy, equally worried. “If it snows Marcus will not come either.”  
  
“Maybe it will not snow,” suggested Madeleine reasonably.  
  
Both women looked at her incredulously. “Have you even looked outside?” asked her sister.  
  
Madeleine calmly bit off a thread. “No, you have been blocking the window making it rather difficult for me to see anything at all. Why don’t you sit down, Dot? Mr. Greystone and grandpapa are not going to get here any quicker for your watching.”  
  
“Don’t antagonize your sister, dear,” murmured Lady Freye without turning round from the window, knowing instinctively that Dorothy was likely to rise to the bait.  
  
Dorothy resumed her pacing. “His carriage might lose a wheel somewhere deep in the countryside and he might be lost for days and we might discover him frozen to death beside the road in a snowbank twenty miles from Devizes at New Year!” Her voice rose hysterically.  
  
“My dear-”  
  
“Dorothy! It’s not even snowing!” exclaimed Madeleine.  
  
“Oh, isn’t it now!” said their mother, her voice thick with foreboding. “Look, girls.”  
  
Even Madeleine left her seat to join her mother at the window. Lady Freye put an arm round each of her daughters. “Well, my dears, there we go.”  
  
There they went indeed. The first of what were to be many thick and sticky flakes of snow were falling steadily onto the front lawn. They watched for ten minutes in silence until the ground was completely white. The snow only got thicker and fell faster and there was no break in the clouds.  
  
Finally, growing cold from standing at the window for so long, Lady Freye sighed and moved away. “The one thing we may be happy about is that Simon has not gone out today.”  
  
Madeleine laughed incredulously. “That is because he is upstairs in bed with influenza!”  
  
Dorothy hugged her arms. “This is going to be the worst Christmas ever! There will be no-one here.”  
  
She flounced out of the room. Madeleine sighed and sat back down by the fire, curling her legs under herself and picking her embroidery back up. Her mother watched her a few minutes without saying anything then she too left the room as well.  
  
The hours passed by, marked out by the ancient clock in the corner. Madeleine alternately sewed and day dreamed, sometimes both together. Occasionally she stood up to stretch her limbs and wandered the window. The snow continued to fall.  
  
Madeleine was on the point of falling asleep when she was suddenly disturbed by the harsh beating of the knocker. She jumped up and her hands went to her hair, which was mussed from the hours she had spent on the couch. It was four o’clock in the afternoon! Perhaps either Mr. Greystone or Lord Pelham had managed to get through the snow after all. She rushed to the window. A black carriage sat in the drive, the noise of its arrival masked by the snow fall. The horses stood dully in the cold and two footmen stamped their feet and clapped their hands to warm up.  
  
Madeleine heard the butler approach the door and pull it open. She opened the door of the drawing room a crack and hesitated, waiting to hear who it was before stepping out. Besides, the hall was bound to be freezing.  
  
“Good afternoon, Sir,” she heard the butler say. However, his tone sounded more questioning than friendly, and she wondered if the visitor was known after all.  
  
“Good afternoon,” said the visitor, in a light and pleasant baritone that Madeleine instantly recognized. She stiffened and her eyes widened. Her heart began to beat faster. It couldn’t be.  
  
“I am so sorry to disturb you,” the visitor continued, “in such appalling weather and at Christmas too, but I am making my way to Lord Rushton’s estate and have got a little lost in the snowstorm.”  
  
“Lord Rushton’s estate is just four miles down the road to the west, Sir,” said the butler.  
  
Madeleine could hear the man walk around the hall a little, then he said, “Might I have the honour of knowing where I am now? I should hate to trespass on the hospitality of strangers and yet-”  
  
This was Madeleine’s cue. She pushed the door further open and stepped out into the hall. “Lord Surrey!” she exclaimed and dropped a deep curtsy.  
  
When she stood up straight and raised her eyes she saw that he was looking just as flabbergasted as she herself had felt moments previously. “Miss Freye,” he recollected himself and bowed. “What- what are you doing here?”  
  
“I live here, my Lord,” she replied with the ghost of a smile.  
  
The butler coughed discreetly. “This is the estate of Sir James Freye, my Lord. Shall I see if he is at home?”  
  
The Viscount took a step backwards. “Well, I’ll be- yes. Yes, please do,” he addressed the butler, who melted away into the shadows.  
  
“Won’t your Lordship come into the warm?” offered Madeleine, pushing the drawing room door open behind her with her foot and knowing that the warm glow of the fire must look irresistible to the wet and weary traveller. Indeed, he did look longingly through the door behind her.  
  
“You are very kind, Miss Freye,” he said and allowed her to proceed him into the room.  
  
Immediately Madeleine rang the bell. She would not allow the Viscount to sit in his greatcoat. Once Alice had taken his coat and brought them both tea and the promise of crumpets in a very few minutes, and he had given orders with regards to his horses and servants, she relaxed more.  
  
She regarded him quietly over the fire. “I am glad you turned down our drive. Another four miles and you might well have been caught in the drifts. As it is I am afraid you will find it very hard to leave now.”  
  
She found that she did not mind the idea as much as she ought to, as she enjoyed the sight of him lounging in the arm chair opposite her, as if he had been born to sit in such a position. She took a sip of scalding tea to cover her sudden embarrassment.  
  
He chuckled a little with the private laugh that she had come to associate with him, almost as if he was amused by something nobody could understand. “Yes, I daresay it will be difficult for me to leave.”  
  
He also drank some tea before saying, “Believe me, Miss Freye, if I had known you lived so close to Rushton, then I would have called on you much earlier this year.”  
  
Madeleine wished he had known very much. How much more entertaining this year might have been! “Do you know Lord Rushton well?” was all she said.  
  
“He is my cousin.”  
  
“Your cousin?” And she also smiled privately. How strange it was that they had not known of this connection, but then again, she supposed, life was full of these strange coincidences. Perhaps it was not so marvellous after all.  
  
“Yes, and we were all planning to spend Christmas with him this year. My brother and my father and his family are already there. I was delayed in town until today.” He looked round the room anxiously then. “I beg your pardon, Miss Freye, but your father-”  
  
She knew what he was thinking and instantly sought to put his fears at rest. Smiling, she interrupted, “Papa was very likely asleep in his study. He will be with us as soon as he is able. Mama and Dorothy I believe are resting upstairs. They are both very worried because my grandfather and Mr. Greystone, my sister’s betrothed you know, have not arrived.”  
  
His face darkened in concern. “I did not pass any carriages on my way here. If they were sensible they will not have set out at all.”  
  
“Yes,” replied Madeleine, “that is exactly what I think.”  
  
He laughed suddenly and sardonically. “It is only rash fools like me who take a drive into the country when it looks like snow. You must think me a very idiot, Miss Freye!”  
  
“No, hardly, only very keen to see your family, and who can wrong that?”  
  
He bowed slightly and gave her a twisted smile. “Thank-you. When next I find myself doubting my actions, I shall turn to you to reassure me that they are as noble and honourable as I might desire.”  
  
Madeleine flushed. “I meant what I said. If you want me to say you should not have set out then I shall, but I don’t think you would like me any more for agreeing with your low opinion of yourself!”  
  
Their eyes met and he raised his eyebrows at her in silent question. Madeleine raised hers back. She felt a strange exultation. She was enjoying herself. She hoped Papa would take a very long time in sorting himself out to receive a visitor. “Anyway,” she dared to add, still not looking away, “I don’t think you have so low opinion of yourself that you need me to boost it.”  
  
He did not break his gaze either. “No, you’re right, I don’t. I have a high enough opinion of myself. And of you, Miss Freye.”  
  
How could anyone think him dull? she thought indignantly, even as she blushed. She knew she ought to say something coy and encouraging after a compliment like that, but she had never been very good at that sort of thing. In the end she merely said with a little smile, “Thank-you. I have a high opinion of you too, my Lord, though that has probably been obvious to you!”  
  
He was spared the necessity of replying by the entrance of Alice with crumpets. She put them on the table between them. Before she left, however, she hesitated and said to Madeleine, “Begging you pardon, Miss Madeleine, but should I tell Lady Freye and Miss Freye that there is a visitor?”  
  
“Are they awake?”  
  
“I’m not rightly sure, Miss. I could-”  
  
“Please,” cried Lord Surrey, “do not disturb the other ladies on my account. Miss Madeleine Freye and I will do very well together here until Sir James is able to join us.”  
  
Madeleine’s eyes sparkled as she assured the maid that there was no need at all to call Mama or Dorothy, and Alice left them together, with a pleased look of her own.  
  
“I’m sorry Papa is so long,” Madeleine said immediately. “He is not very well, you know, and it takes him a long time to exert himself.” It distressed her to think too much of Papa. He got so terribly confused and it put a great deal of pressure on poor Mama.  
  
“Please, think nothing of it,” the Viscount replied gently. “I am happy to spend time with you.” And, unbelievably, delightfully, he leaned across the table and took her hand in his. Madeleine was quite sure that the surprise and joy she felt at this simple action showed on her face and for once she did not bother to try to hide it. If she could not show what she really felt to the man she hoped she would marry, then to whom could she?  
  
They sat in silence for several happy minutes. Madeleine was admittedly quite uncomfortable with her hand stretched out across the tea table and dangerously near to the plate of burning hot crumpets, but she could endure a little discomfort for the sake of having her hand caressed by Lord Surrey. Any day. All day preferably.  
  
Finally the Viscount spoke, his voice quiet. “I did not think I would see you again until April.”  
  
“Nor I,” she replied in the same tone. “You would not have done either if it were not for this coincidence of your going to the Rushtons’ estate and getting caught in the snow.”  
  
“Coincidence?” He laughed and his bright, brown eyes seemed brighter than ever. “I think it is a Christmas miracle. Do you believe in miracles, Madeleine?”  
  
She certainly did not believe in anything so fanciful but he had called her ‘Madeleine’ and she did not think a downright denial would be fitting so instead she said, “I never did until today!” When she looked back on their conversation later, she thought it was a very good reply.  
  
So it seemed did Lord Surrey. He dropped her hand, leaned back in his chair and laughed out loud. “Why, nor I to be sure! I do like you, Madeleine. I always have.”  
  
Then he stopped laughing abruptly and looked away, frowning. Madeleine wondered if he regretted his being so open. She certainly did not. She felt happier than she had done in months. A laughing declaration of liking was hardly something that would satisfy her sister, but Madeleine was made of more realistic stuff. She tucked her legs under herself without thinking about it and looked at him fondly as she sipped her tea.  
  
Then he looked back at her and the frown was gone replaced by an intensity that made Madeleine shiver. She quickly removed the tenderness from her expression, but she had a feeling that he had seen it anyway.  
  
“What do you think would make Christmas even more miraculous this year, Madeleine?” he asked her.  
  
“I don’t know,” she replied in an encouraging tone.  
  
He reached for her hand again. “Say you’ll marry me, Madeleine. That will be a true miracle.”  
  
Madeleine tried to restrain the bubble of joyful laughter that threatened to escape her lips. He was actually asking her to marry him! Her, the younger daughter of a country baronet! And him heir to an Earl and the handsomest, kindest and most amusing gentleman she had ever met!  
  
It came as a complete surprise then, when instead of giving him a happy acceptance to his proposal she exclaimed with a broad grin, “Do you think that my acceptance would be so miraculous then?”  
  
If he was startled by her response, then the only indication of it was in the tightening of his grip on her hand and a look of subtle amusement in his eyes. “It would make me very happy if you became my wife. I hope it does not need a miracle to bring it about.”  
  
She could not stop smiling. “I would be very happy to become your wife, Lord Surrey.”  
  
His entire countenance seemed to lighten and she impulsively pressed his hand back. What would have happened next Madeleine could only imagine (and she certainly did imagine it…) if her father had not chosen that moment to make his entrance. She jumped up from her seat and swayed as she stood, one of her feet having gone to sleep, and was quick to put a distance between herself and her new fiancé. He rose more slowly and sedately and bowed.  
  
“Papa, you are up!” She went to his side and took his arm.  
  
Sir James smiled at her fondly. “Madeleine, my dear. I was told we had a visitor.”  
  
“Yes, we do. This is Viscount Surrey. He was en route to the Rushtons’.” She met the Viscount’s eyes and blushed.  
  
“Ah yes.” Sir James held out his hand. “How do you do, Lord Surrey? I am sorry you must stay here instead of with your friends. Do sit down.”  
  
They all sat again. Madeleine felt very daring and chose to sit on the same sofa as Lord Surrey. Her dress lightly brushed against his breeches. Dorothy, she thought, would be proud.  
  
“Indeed,” she added with a smile, “we are also friends to Lord Surrey I hope.”  
  
“Oh?” said her father suspiciously. “You are acquainted?”  
  
Madeleine was distressed. Her father knew they were acquainted, but he did tend to forget things these days. Nevertheless, she concealed her feelings and said only, “Yes, in London.”  
  
“Your daughter,” said the Viscount proudly, “is a credit to you, Sir. I am honoured to be considered her friend.”  
  
Rather more than that! thought Madeleine tartly, but she was not offended because he had somehow shifted closer to her, and his sleeve now brushed hers.  
  
Her father coughed and levelled his gaze at them both. “Well. Harrumph. Very good. Madeleine’s a good girl.”  
  
“Yes, Sir,” said the Viscount.  
  
Suddenly her father frowned. “My dear, are we not waiting for someone? Who are we waiting for?”  
  
“For grandpapa and Mr. Greystone, Papa. But I do not think they will come. The snow is too deep.”  
  
He seemed satisfied for a moment, but then remembered the others. “But where is my wife? Where is your sister? Where is Simon?”  
  
Madeleine sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Simon is in bed- he is not well, and I think Mama and Dorothy are resting.”  
  
He grew agitated. “Why are they not here? We have company! Madeleine, ring the bell for Alice!”  
  
“Allow me, Sir,” said the Viscount, laying a hand on Madeleine’s shoulder to keep her seated. He rang the bell, Sir James’ eyes following him as he did so and then sat down again. When Alice appeared, more tea was ordered and the other ladies were summoned.  
  
The Viscount, Sir James and Madeleine continued to make polite chit-chat. It was desultory at best. Both Surrey and Madeleine wished to be alone together and the occasional brush of his sleeve or leg against hers as he explained some detail of who-knew-what to her father was causing Madeleine almost to lose her habitual calm.  
  
It was a relief to all when Lady Freye and Dorothy entered. They were full of apologies, but in the midst of all the quite unnecessary spiel of regrets and blame and excuses, Dorothy raised her eyebrows and Madeleine did more than raise hers back. She positively waggled them.  
  
Before they had time to sit down again, however, and before Alice could bring in two extra cups and a second plate of crumpets, they all heard the faint sound of the jingling of harnesses in the driveway.  
  
“It is Marcus!” exclaimed Dorothy, rushing from the room.  
  
“It is my father!” exclaimed Lady Freye, following her.  
  
Sir James looked confused. “More arrivals?” he asked nobody in particular.  
  
Madeleine moved briskly to the window. “Look! It has stopped snowing and the sky is clear!”  
  
So it was, and the evening was beautiful. The snow glimmered crystal white in the lamp light spilling out of the house, and in the dark blue, velvety sky, a dusting of distant stars could be seen every now and then before they were lost behind scudding clouds. The bare trees along the drive bent in the new wind that was blowing the blizzard away. The Viscount had followed her to the window, and grabbed her arm. She turned to him questioningly. He briefly drew her behind the end of the curtain, so they were hidden from her father. He gripped her arms and looked intensely into her eyes. “I will marry you before New Year, Madeleine!”  
  
She gasped. “But what about-”  
  
He placed his finger on her lips. “But nothing, love!” His eyes danced and Madeleine’s danced in return. Then he kissed her.  
  
At some point during the next few minutes the front door was opened. At some point there was a great deal of rushing around and exclamations and hugging and laughter, but Madeleine was not aware of any of it. She thought (when she had leisure for thinking, which was not until much, much later) that she could understand why Maria Crane had not been unhappy to have her nightgown ripped off her on her wedding night. In fact, the way the Viscount was kissing her, she would not have minded if he had ripped off every single layer of her warm winter dress right there and then.  
  
When he finally let her go (for all good things come to an end), she was out of breath and could hardly think. He pushed a curl of light hair away from her cheek. She could only smile at him rather tremulously. “I’ll ask your father tomorrow, Madeleine, and then there shall be no delay. I shall get a special license and we shall married before you can even turn round!”  
  
Madeleine was not too sure about this. Dorothy would not be pleased to share her wedding celebrations and Madeleine was not sure what the hurry was about. Apart from the obvious, though it was certainly flattering he wanted to marry her so quickly. Perhaps there was some clause in his father’s will that he would not inherit if he did not marry before January 1777. There often was in novels.  
  
At any rate, there would be time to find all these things out. In the meantime, Madeleine was beginning to come to her senses again and remember what was going on outside the window alcove. She took Lord Surrey’s hand and led him out. “Let’s see which of them has arrived.”  
  
Once in the hall it turned out that both expected guests had arrived after all. The Earl of Pelham was having his coat taken and was telling his daughter had bad the roads how been and how glad he was to meet Mr. Greystone on the way. Marcus had his arm round Dorothy and they both looked as if neither had any intention of letting go. Suddenly Madeleine did not care that she still held the Viscount’s hand. It was Christmas and they were all family, or soon would be.  
  
She understood what Dorothy saw in Marcus, sideburns or no sideburns, because it was what she felt when she looked at Viscount Surrey. A fierce, proud and protective flame inside her burned at the thought of their future. She knew she was a quiet and awkward girl who was more at home in the country than in a ballroom but she had always been a quick learner and one day soon she would become a Viscountess and in the fullness of time a Countess. And she would be ready. She would make him a good wife, she decided, because she loved him. She really did. And she suspected he loved her too.  
  
In among the crowd of people Lady Freye was trying to usher back into the drawing room, Madeleine caught her sister’s eye. Dorothy raised her eyebrows and Madeleine raised hers back, tightening her hold on Lord Surrey’s hand.


End file.
